Sunday, in the wee hours of the morning, the dogs wanted out. I stood at the patio door and felt a bit of a chill in the air.
Fall keeps tiptoeing in and then tiptoeing back out. Some days it is 100 degrees in the shade.
Fall will be here eventually.
We had a wee bit of a problem over the weekend. A fly got into the apartment. Abi was beside herself. Charlie was hiding under the blanket on the bed.
I looked and looked for Abi. I called her name. Finally I found her here, in the bathtub behind the shower curtain.
He’s focused on dinosaurs right now. I imagine it will be fleeting, and he’ll be on to something else soon.
He moves with purpose. I wonder what’s going through his mind as he strides around the park.
The poor child inherited my cowlick.
I always read books to him. And I don’t just read. I make a big drama out of it.
I talk in strange high voices and try to bring it to life for him. I’m a one-woman book of characters.
But then he gets bored and he’s off to something else.
Out to the back yard where he walks around pointing out where his dog, Gizmo, has pooped in the back yard.
Such is the life of a two and a half year old boy.